Mystery that burns so bright

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The legend lives on, so do we need to clone the Tasmanian tiger?, asks Julie Leigh.

Officially, the last Tasmanian tiger or thylacine died in a private zoo in Hobart in 1936. Since this time there have been numerous claimed sightings, some more credible than others.

This one, made in 1982 by Hans Narding, a researcher with the Tasmanian National Parks and Wildlife Service, triggered an extensive government-funded search:

"I had gone to sleep in the back of my vehicle which was parked at a road junction in a remote forested area in the north-west of the State. It was raining heavily. At 2am I awoke and, out of habit, scanned the surrounds with a spotlight.

"As I swept the light beam around it came to rest on a large thylacine, standing side-on some six to seven metres distant. My camera bag was out of immediate reach so I decided to examine the animal carefully before risking movement. It was an adult male in excellent condition with 12 stripes on a sandy coat. Eye reflection was pale yellow. It moved only once, opening it jaw and showing its teeth. After several minutes of observation I attempted to reach my camera bag but in doing so I disturbed the animal and it moved away into the undergrowth."

The search, like so many searches, failed. Despite the use of flash cameras, infra-red beams, trackers, helicopters, illegal snares and traps, despite hundreds of thousands of dollars being thrown at the national quest, the thylacine has proved determinedly elusive.

Now another bunch are having a go. A team of scientists led by Dr Don Colgan at the Australian Museum made the spectacular announcement that it would embark on an $80 million project to clone the beast, to bring it back to life.

In the tradition of the hunt, the way will not be easy. What they have now is some DNA material extracted from a pup preserved in alcohol. Professor Mike Archer, the Museum's director, has said there is no reason to believe it contains anything less than the whole genome. If this proves true and if a genetic library can be created, if the DNA can then be revitalised, and if the resultant viable DNA can be cloned then it may be possible that one female thylacine will walk again. Dr Colgan gives the project an 8 per cent to 10 per cent chance of succeeding.

The real question is not how, but why ... why clone the thylacine?

Deep in our hearts we all know the Tasmanian tiger isn't extinct, and a short trip to Tasmania will confirm this. Thylacines are everywhere.

"Welcome to Tiger Town" reads a sign by the highway on your way into Launceston; the bus company is Tiger Line; the local footy team is known as The Tigers; the local beer, Cascade, sports a tiger on its label. Salamanca market is overrun with clay thylacines and thylacines on T-shirts, key-rings, cups and plates. Tiger lore is not confined to Tasmania. The Tasmanian Tourist Commission has taken up the creature for its logo and made new lairs around the country. Claimed sightings have been made in Victoria and Queensland. A rock painting of a thylacine sparked rumours in WA. Any Aussie schoolkid can ID a Tassie tiger at 20 paces (a good number of them have sighted the creature in their own backyards).

As far as Australian myth goes, the benighted animal is alive and kicking.

We don't go about brandishing these images of the tiger as if they were the heads of our enemies on sticks, although this would be apt (the animal's physical demise was brought about in no small measure by human malfeasance - a combination of intensive hunting by humans, loss of habitat through encroaching human development, through competition with dogs introduced by humans, and through disease).

No, instead we keep the thylacine alive because we like to think that somehow one last tiger exists. We thrill to reports of sightings. We convince ourselves that the tiger must be crafty and ruthless and wise, otherwise it would not have survived (how we love our bush heroes).

The wilderness, the animal's habitat untouched by human hand, is a key part of the appeal of the myth. Life in the wild throws life in the office place into stark relief. We, too, are animal. These days wilderness has become a buzzword: romanticised and also politicised. It has to be. Forget Thoreau and his cabin by Walden Pond; he didn't have a multinational banging at his door.

Ecological awareness is part of the zeitgeist. The museum's announcement has drawn attention to the issues of biodiversity and habitat. This is good. Archer has said that Australians have a moral obligation to bring the species back to life. But do we really? Just because we can do something, doesn't mean we should. Money doesn't grow on trees, and preserving presently endangered species would seem to be a higher priority.

Anyhow, we have our thylacine. She's somewhere out there, standing with her back to the rising wind and slowly shaking herself awake. We might be fools, but mystery is our last preserve. We want to believe.

Julia Leigh was recently named Best Young Novelist by the Herald and is short-listed for the NSW Premier's Prize for her novel, The Hunter.